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Profound Writer
Join Date: Apr 2006
Gender: Female
Posts: 1,296
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The Tear [part II] (1,520 words)
The outdoors seemed polluted, vandalized. The term “fresh air” hadn’t been used in ages. I could recall my parents saying that phrase once, but now it didn’t make sense. The skies were always black, not matter what time of the day. The same was in this case. Shadows lurked even though it was only noon.
I walked for what seemed like hours. Litter was scattered across the ground. A few people were praying or chanting in the streets, imploring for one more day of tranquility. Their prayers were rarely answered. Actually, no one’s prayers were answered. A prayer was frivolous compared to the impending danger, and without the comparison. Sadly, priorities were scrambled, but no one had the audacity to proclaim this truth. The Unaffected were wise.
They – or rather, we – are the only ones who understand morality. While we didn’t live in fear, we were smart enough not to mingle with those involved with The CA or The ATL. Intervening meant risking existence, and though this would be a worthy sacrifice for the greater good, we knew that most individual efforts would be futile. That’s why places like Golgotha were created. Shelter, protection, research, and discussion. Something had to be done.
Deep in these thoughts, I stumbled into the man who had initiated me earlier.
“Oh! Lucy! I’m sorry.” He quickly regained composure and looked at me thoughtfully. “What are you doing out here alone?”
After recovering from the shock of him remembering my name, since there were hundreds of visitors registering every week, I attempted to concoct a valid excuse.
“I was just…getting some fresh air.”
That was a ridiculous response, I thought.
“Have you found the fresh air yet?” He laughed. A bashful smile surfaced on my face.
“Oh, I’m sorry, but I never got your name.”
“Aden,” he said softly. The name suited him. I smiled, unable to think of another form of reply. Suddenly, his eyes widened, and he grabbed my arm and tugged me down the sidewalk.
“What’s going on?” I asked instantly, oblivious to the circumstances that he had just discovered. But he didn’t have to explain. In the next moment, I heard the faint sound of gunshots.
The army was only a spec in the distance, miniscule silhouettes I would not have noticed for possibly another hour if they had not fired the guns. As I was being pulled toward the tower that was Golgotha, I glanced upward and noticed that there were telescopes on the roof. Not only were there telescopes, there were several people peering through several lenses. But the telescopes were not alone. They were accompanied by something that sent an unwelcome chill down my fragile spine. There were snipers.
Immediately I looked at the tops of the other buildings. None of the rest had guns, but they all had telescopes. Why would Golgotha need guns, then? This question haunted me for some time due to the fact that right when Aden and I stepped onto the property, he was gone instantly in the elevator and up. I stood, bewildered, unable to comprehend why everyone was scrambling to get onto the elevator. I cautiously approached, observing quietly, waiting to find a calm spectator. This was nearly impossible with all of the sirens going off and the lights flashing. You’d think the building was going to cave-in. Hopefully it wouldn’t.
It didn’t. I soon discovered why everyone was frantic. I wouldn’t necessarily call the scene chaotic, nor would I call it the result of panic. The mood had been propelled by fear, the fear of the unknown – the worst fear of all. All I heard from that point on were loud gunshots, screams, and distant explosions. I had gone up to my room and stayed until there was silence, a silence I will always remember because it communicated an inconceivable danger.
I found Aden later that night, at which time he explained the predicament.
“Apparently The CA had been planning a surprise ambush on The ATL and Golgotha. This is the first time in history that Golgotha had been directly and purposefully attacked. Today was the first day we’ve ever fired our weapons. It was Unaffected policy that we do not attack, yet it’s also an unwritten rule that we should not be attacked. We really had no choice. We’re now at war.”
My refuge had been attacked. At that moment, the security of my home had been grasped and yanked away, leaving me aghast and vulnerable.
“Why did they decide to attack us now?” He could tell I was worried. The tone of his response made this apparent to me. He spoke calmly and gently now, as if not to alarm me any further. I was an expensive vase on the verge of shattering.
“We were and will always be a threat to both extremist organizations. We offer peace and stability with no strings attached. What instigated The CA to attack now was the leaked information that we were trying to reinstate the UN.”
I had heard of the UN, but I had also known that it had weakened and basically disappeared decades ago. My eyes stared into his as I craved for more words to be spoken. He saw this.
“You see, The CA was almost created by accident. There is the false notion that they are all atheists, so atheists were given a bad name. That is regrettable, because not believing in a god has nothing to do with The CA. I am, in fact, an atheist.”
He paused, and assuming he wanted me to respond, I simply nodded.
“The CA is actually an organization of humans who believe they have the power and the right to control their fellow man. That is what separates them from the rest of us. Now that they see we’re getting ever closer to democracy, their uneasiness is escalating to frantic worry. So they fight. It’s the only way they know how to solve problems. Unfortunately, I am, or was, a Pacifist, and I will restrain from firing a gun until it is absolutely necessary.”
I stared in awe, partly because of my own ignorance, and partly because this all seemed so fantastic yet so utterly real simultaneously.
“You should get to bed. There were no Unaffected deaths today, so we should be thankful for that. However, you need your rest. Things are bound to get worse.”
I nodded submissively and proceeded to the elevator. As I reached to press the button out of instinct, my eye caught sight of the masked button. The visual of guns plastered itself in my mind, leaving me drowning in thought. It was going to be a long night.
She grabbed my shoulders and shook me violently. I felt detached, and nothing she would do would make me listen. “Listen to me! Stay away from him! God has left his soul!”
My father turned the knob of the front door and entered, quiet as death. Not even his footsteps made a sound. The rug softened his heavy steps as he approached my mother. Her disposition was one of terror. His silhouette engulfed her slowly, ominously. A piercing scream. Red. That’s all I saw. Red.
I woke up in cold sweat. I hastily wiped my forehead as I panted to catch the breath I had lost so long ago. Images flashed through my penetrable mind, and I was helpless. They would never cease. Childhood was so overrated. I’ve read about children who grew up in a quiet neighborhood, forming life-long friendships and being care-free. I could never play that game called hopscotch or eat ice cream. I couldn’t even see the sunshine. It was so overrated, or maybe I was just severely deprived and jealous. Saying it was overrated just sounded nicer.
When my heart decided to return to its normal beating pattern, I stood carefully, trying not to disturb my heart’s fragile rhythm once again. It would beat in anger, frustration, and confusion. Why had my mom had so much faith in God? God let her down. God let Dad do that to her. She devoted herself to “God” while she was beaten continuously. I wouldn’t say I don’t believe in God. I don’t know what I believe in. That’s a lie. I believe in darkness. I believe in anger. I believe in taking life one day at a time.
Why was my father so obsessed with violence? Couldn’t he see that it wasn’t taking him or The CA anywhere? They were drastically decreasing the world’s population day by day, making no progress in any way other than lessening how many people you saw when you went to school. It had been scary when I went to school. Almost once a month someone wouldn’t be seen again. Once a month, like the looming full moon that smirks and sneers at your losses. The moon is all I ever saw, or all I didn’t see. I didn’t understand it. Believe in God or the Devil, but don’t blind yourself. I believe in myself and I can see. That’s what I believe in. I believe in myself.
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